There was one more thing that had to be done before rendezvous. Nenda turned to Atvar H’sial, who had been listening intently to some mysterious two-dimensional data stream of sound.
“At, can I borrow J’merlia for a while? I have a job for him.”
“If it will extend into the time of our meeting on the Pride of Orion, you will deprive me of my interpreter.”
“I’m not as good with the pheromones as J’merlia, but I can run you a pretty good simultaneous translation.”
“Then I agree. You will, of course, owe me a favor. I will go now to J’merlia and command him to follow your instructions.”
The Cecropian glided out. Nenda turned to Kallik. “I have a tough one for you.”
“Master Nenda, I will operate to the best of my abilities.”
“This will need them. While Atvar H’sial and I are gone, I want you and J’merlia to plot out the locations of Bose transition points in the Sag Arm. Mark as many of them as you can, along with associated closest stars and distances.”
“Master Nenda, we lack data about the Sag Arm. How are we to locate Bose nodes?”
“If I knew that, would I be askin’ for help? You can make a start with the data base from the Polypheme ship. It was all loaded into the banks on the Pride of Orion. You should be able to access that from here.”
“Data provided from Chism Polypheme sources are notoriously unreliable.”
“Sure they are. But that doesn’t mean everything in them is wrong.”
He heard the faint sigh of equalizing air pressures. J’merlia had already docked them with the Pride of Orion, and so gently that Nenda had not even felt the contact. Which meant that Louis had to get a move on—the last thing he wanted was somebody on board the other ship deciding to take a look at the interior of the Have-It-All. He had closed the weapons ports as soon as he gave the command to seek the Pride of Orion, but there were plenty of other things he did not want exposed to prying eyes.
He gave a few final instructions to Kallik and hurried out. Behind him, the instrument sensor was turning for sympathy to Kallik, the only organic being remaining in the chamber.
This task cannot be performed well unless the ship moves closer to the target. A simple accumulation of photons will not suffice to provide a first-rate image. There is also the question of resolution. Even with diffraction-limited optics—
Nenda was barely in time. But for the actions of Atvar H’sial he would not have been. The umbilical between the two ships was already in position when he reached the hatch, and Atvar H’sial was standing in front of it. The Cecropian had towered up to her full height, with her black wing cases stretched as wide as they would go to block the whole umbilical. The pheromones wafting from her were wordless, but they betrayed a smoldering anger.
“What’s up, At? Give us a bit more room there.” Nenda squeezed his way through on her right-hand side. He pushed the wing cases and delicate vestigial wings out of the way, and found himself face to face with a human female. “I see. And who the hell might you be?”
But he could already guess the answer. The only strangers on the Pride of Orion were the “survival experts.” This had to be one of that team of five, kept in strict seclusion by Julian Graves.
Nenda could see now why Graves had hidden them. The woman in front of him was fresh-faced and slim. With her big blue eyes and curls of golden hair, she looked about sixteen years old. She ignored his question and stared at Atvar H’sial with obvious curiosity.
“So this is a Cecropian,” she said. “Funny, I thought he would be bigger.”
“She, not he. The only Cecropians you’ll ever meet away from their home world are females. You were standing in Atvar H’sial’s way.”
“No. She was in mine.”
“Same thing. You’re lucky she didn’t pick you up and squash you flat. Cecropians are strong, an’ they don’t have much patience with humans. Weren’t you briefed on this sort of thing before they let you out of the creche?”
The woman again ignored his words, but she did stop staring at Atvar H’sial. She turned those innocent blue eyes on Louis, and said, “I suppose you must be Nenda. Graves warned us about you.”
He knew it was a deliberate come-on, but he couldn’t resist. “Warned you of what about me?”
“Oh, that you are a thief, and a villain, and probably a murderer. Is it true?”
“Go to hell.”
“ Graves said that you would cuss and flame and generally act like an uncultured barbarian.”
“What do you mean, act? You got the real thing here.”
As they spoke, Nenda was reevaluating the woman in front of him and providing an edited pheromonal version of their conversation to Atvar H’sial. The impression of youth came partly from the pale and flawless skin, but beneath it he could see strong tendons in her bare arms. Her eyes might seem innocent, but they were everywhere, scanning him and Atvar H’sial. Her movements were unnaturally rapid and precise, and he guessed at hidden enhancements.
He said, “Do you have a name?” and as the woman in front of him answered he passed a pheromonal message to Atvar H’siaclass="underline" “Keep crowding us forward along the umbilical. We definitely don’t want her near the Have-It-All.”
“I am Sinara Bellstock. Born on Miranda, trained on Persephone.”
“Louis, I do not like this human female. Her pheromones suggest a desire for continued badinage and intimate discourse with you.”
“That’s crazy. At, if I listened to you I’d never speak to a human woman.”
He said to Sinara Bellstock, “Trained to do what?” At the same time he moved past her, forcing her either to follow him or come into contact with Atvar H’sial. The Cecropian was gliding steadily forward and blocking the whole corridor.
“Trained in martial arts, trained in weapons, trained in diplomacy. Trained to endure pain, trained to be patient, trained to evaluate a situation quickly and then act. Trained to survive.”
But not trained to lie, and cheat, or disbelieve half the things that you are told? Then good luck, lady. Because you’re going to need it. Without all those other things you wouldn’t last ten minutes on half the worlds in the local arm.
Louis did not speak those words to Sinara Bellstock. Nor did he convey them pheromonally to Atvar H’sial, who continued to transmit bursts of suspicion and displeasure. They were at the end of the umbilical, and as they entered the docking chamber of the Pride of Orion he could see four people waiting for them. There was Julian Graves, and E.C. Tally, and behind those two were Darya Lang and Hans Rebka.
Louis Nenda experienced multiple feelings of relief. The effort of speaking to a human and simultaneously holding a pheromonal conversation on a different subject with Atvar H’sial made his head feel like it would split in two. It would be a luxury to sit for a while and just listen to what others had to say.
And then there was the behavior of Atvar H’sial herself. Preoccupied with Sinara Bellstock, for the first time in years the Cecropian was not reacting with suspicion and annoyance to the sight of Darya Lang.
Louis moved forward. He had never thought it could happen, but the sight of Hans Rebka’s scowl of greeting and of E.C. Tally eagerly poised to speak brought a smile to his face.
CHAPTER EIGHT